Lost
by Kirychan1226
Summary: *A lot of research was put into this.* He was lost. Everything around him was nothing but his nightmares, yet an uncomfortable encounter tore him apart. Until his world lighted up again. Yet along the way, things aren't always as they seem.


**A/N**

 **I am fucking crying I fucking cried while writing this the storyline of FNAF is actually so fucking sad just oh my god that aint no horror game THAT'S A HERE GET DEPRESSED GAME.**

 **An entire hour of researching videos and game theories for FNaF, then three hours of reading about the game and watching all the easter eggs and stuff. I learned quite a bit in that three hours. About just a specific part, though. Screw the storyline friend tried telling me it but it just escaped my brain. I genuinely like FNaF, and not because Purple Guy x Phone Guy. No, that was just to piss my friend off. It's actually a fandom I don't go wild with shipping in it. No. It makes me sad. Really, really, sad.**

 **That being said...**

 **DISCLAIMERS OF DOOM: I do not own Five Night at Freddy's 1-4, or Sister Location. They belong to the site Scottsgames ( it's a dot com) and their respective owners. I do NOT own the cover art, either. I got it off of deviantart and it's what inspired me to write this. It also made me sad.**

 **Sorry to ruin your game for you. But this** _ **had**_ **to be done. At least, I wanted to do it and felt like it needed to be done. Other people have probably done it, but I never have looked up any of the fanfics. Soz.**

 _'Isn't that why you came here? To be with her again?' 'There's no turning back for men like me.' 'He was an oposite reflection of himself...' 'Daddy, just once let me go play with her. She's so pretty and shiny!' 'Didn't you make her just for me?!' 'I built Baby...' 'I AM one of them...' 'All I could see were his eyes... dead...' 'Why didn't you believe me? Why couldn't you trust me?' 'We are still your friends. Don't you believe that?' 'Terrible things come in small packages.' 'Give gifts. Give life.'_

Words and images rolled and echoed through the empty, blank space. Lifeless eyes stared on through a thin layer of glass, and tears managed to seep through and fall into the emptiness as droplets of thick, red blood. Gloves hands barely even twitched as they hung limply to the sides of loose black slacks, that barely clung to the body they covered. Blood seeped through a cut on his wrist right above the hem of his glove, rolling down his pale skin and eventually onto the glove. The blood rolled off his fingers, falling into the blank space he occupied. He slowly blinked, struggling to keep his eyes open as he continued to watch his life flash by; he saw everything he'd ever done and ever seen and soon began to regret it all.

The first moment he ever dug a knife into someone; shot a bullet into someone; the moment he picked up a wrench and tried fixing a mechanical error; the moment he let her go. How everyone around him felt in his pressence, how much he wanted to regret them having to meet him. He barely could think, or feel much emotions. Yet somewhere in the dead pit he called himself, he knew he'd be hating every moment of it all. He watched motionless, an empty void when he saw himself stuffing those children's bodies into the animatronics.

He saw himself doing it again, and again, and again. Over and over. He closed to his eyes to block everything out, yet all he could hear were blood-curtling screams, the sound as their flesh ripped apart, and what disgusting noises their broken little bodies made as he stuffed them into innocent robots. He could hear the springs and rigging grinding and screeching, the body parts squelching as they were forced to contort in impossible ways to accomodate the movements of the animatronics.

He saw all of it on the inside of his eyelids, he felt everything they felt as his cold body reacted in a way that seemed it mean't to punish them. He made a small sputtering noise as he wrapped his arms around himself, his entire frame shaking in pure, unrestrained horror. He opened his eyes and widened them, frantically looking around in all directions. Far, far away his ears could pick up of the sounds of the animatronics moving, the blood rusting all their delicate steel framework. He tried to block it out, yet with every step he walked away he could hear the bones inside the animatronics breaking as they moved. Cold shivers crawled up and down his spine as he sped up his pace, going nowhere yet still moving forward into the black nothingness that haunted him.

He overstepped his boundaries and found himself in the old hallways of the original Freddy Fazbear's Pizza... There was fire everywhere, it was was glowing bright, yet everything was eeriely dark. The flames seemed to flicker and dim, then go out and leave him in tattered, empty and ruined hallways. He snapped his vision back and forth, listening to the giggles, the crunches, the fluidy noises echoing back and forth. Oh, how he wanted to run. He wanted to run from it all, push past everything in his way. Go out that door and never look back. Yet he was frozen motionless, except for some spaztic twitching in his shoulders, fingers, and eyes. Everything was approaching closer and closer, he could practically feel them around him.

He choked on the heavy air, the tension cracking in his body and soon he broke into loud hysterical sobbing. He tore at his eyes, yet all he could do was scratch his face, coating his gloves with blood. He stared at the red liquid that seeped into the gloves, then screamed. He tore the gloves off, then stumbled into the wall crying louder. His throat and his eyes burned, his pride melted away, as he hugged himself tightly while muttering his apologies through all of it. Every sob wracked his body, shaking him to the core, leaving him gasping for air yet every time he tried to breathe, he saw everything that had been watching him.

He saw the child of the '83's bite. He saw '87's bite. He saw the old, broken down versions of the animatronics, their plating and framework barely holding together. Most parts were missing, ready to fall off, or badly burnt and crushed. Behind the animatronics he could see the children he stuffed into the suits, their bodies all torn, scraped and bruised. He could see the springmarks in their bodies, all the holes that showed their rotting organs within. The violet orbs glanced back and forth between everything, the scene that unveiled before him. Just before he was about to panic again, the scene changed once more.

He was now in the corner of a hospital room, and the patient in a coma was a small child, their head all wrapped up and their mother in a chair next to them crying and begging for them to wake up. He slowly stood up, and held onto the wall to balance himself. He walked over to the two, and stared at them both. He didn't know if tricks were being played on him again, yet the room slowly turned to black and white, grays as well. His eyes betrayed him, and his body betrayed him as he slowly turned to look at the door. The door was ripped off it's hinges, and monsterous versions of the animatronics stormed in. The child in a coma screamed, and hid under their covers. Begging, and begging for someone to make them go away.

His greasy hair barely flung around him as he shook his head and covered his ears to block out the child's screaming, their pleading, the animatronics and everything they were doing. Once again, he found himself shaking with sobs, trying to block himself out by attempting to think of something. Yet all he could see, even mentalty, was all their pain. What it was like shoving them into those suits, what it was like when little innocents beings got bit by malicious spirits. All of it was his fault, and he couldn't stand the truth. He couldn't stand the facts, he couldn't stand their pain. He couldn't stand watching himself laugh like a maniac as he tore them up, he couldn't stand watching himself feel so much better after murdering.

All of the images kept flashing before him, even as he fell through a hole in the room. There was him being an idiot and using Springtrap's suit, there was him shaking in a pool of his own blood. He shook his head frantically, and backed up into a wall. Rather than the wall stopping him, it opened up and fell back into the dark, black space from before. It was only then that he felt even worse, as anything could come at him at any time. Anyone could tear him apart when they wanted to, they could giggle in delight as he broke apart.

He floated motionlessly in the blank space, his mind empty. His imagination wasn't running and creating hallucinations, his cruel and murderous intent had hid itself from him, and he was left an empty shell of what he once was. He breathed shallowly in the dense air, his lungs screaming at him everytime he inhaled. He furrowed his eyebrows, and frowned deeply at his situation. He'd recently had his organs pulled out by the scooper, and had animatronics occupy him and use him as a puppet. He'd recently seen all the effects and drawbacks of everything he'd done, leaving him mentally scarred and feeling empty.

Remorse may of occupied his being, grief, regret, and disgust with himself echoed through his being. He breathed in deeply, somehow finally falling onto a flat surface in the empty darkness. Every small movement he made caused ripples in the liquid-like flooring, adding to the eerieness of it all. He opened his mouth slightly to speak, yet he could not form words. He could not move, barely even blink. He managed to close his eyelids, which no longer reflected anything. This brought an eeriely sad smile upon his face, as he enjoyed the silence. A world where he could stay void of screams, other people, and him being able to harm any of them.

"I'm... so... glad... I'm finally rid... of... me." His scratchy, slow and quiet words echoed off the non-existant walls, and caused ripples in the water. He felt small shivers of elation when no one responded to him, no screams, groans, metalic noises or anything else that's unwanted. He layed there for quite a while, yet he couldn't tell how long it was. For a place he could of been in there for a hundred years, he wouldn't know how quickly time would pass. He remained careless, lying there doing or thinking of nothing.

"Why do you say that?" For a split moment, he wished she was there. The next second, he was practically praying she wasn't there with him. He tried to resist cracking open an eyelid, yet what he saw was enough to force himself to sit up, his face paling further than what it already was. He breathed out slowly, staring at the ghostly image of what might possibly have been his daughter.

"Daddy, why are you here?" Her small body seemed to be the brightest thing in all of the darkness around them, her hair shining brighter than it ever had. She made a confused expression while inspecting him, the bloody tear streaks on his face, the scars that were even visible littering his neck. He wanted to say something. He wanted to apologize more than anything. He wanted to tell her everything's alright. He's _not_ dead. He wasn't a homocidal _murderer._ He didn't stuff children into robot suits. He didn't feel better after killing. Yet all of it were lies, and that's what stung him the most.

Like heartburn, it burned him deep within his chest. He wished she didn't know what he had become or what he had done. He pulled at his hair, thinking of what to say. How to answer her question. He made a strange choking noise, as tears threatened to spill from his eyes again. He would never care about things like this. He would never think otherwise for all the things he's done. He would never hide and scream, he would never want to be somewhere with someone but not the someone's he's been given option.

"Why are you crying?" Her voice was airy, like she wasn't there. She's just another trick to make him feel pain. He covered his eyes, trying to block her out. He tried to ignore the fact she was walking closer, if she was even real. As real as this place could get, anyways. He tried to ignore the fact she tried to pry his hands away from his face, and when she finally managed to be successfull at getting him to look at her he felt like dying all over again.

Her skin was considerably paler than his, she looked barely above a corpse. Her eyes were dull and lifeless like glass, and her hair had lost most of it's color. Her clothes were faded, the color washed away from them. Her shoes were missing, the cuts on her ankles now raised scars. Tears poured from his eyes once again, even as she wrapped her cold, lifeless arms around her neck in a futile attempt in comforting him.

Seeing her there had probably been the worst thing that had happened to him, the little girl that the last thing she ever enjoyed was a vanilla icecream with a single cherry, yet it was left to melt onto the ground when she died. The old brand of hair shampoo had a scent that barely clung to her hair, pulling wrecking sobs out of him once more. He rocked on the emptiness they stood on, and he clung to her like she was the first thing he had ever seen in his entire life.

He kept whispering how sorry he was, yet she remained silent and just hugged him back, despite the fact his bloody tears were soaking her silvery-blonde hair. She remained silent when his cries soon became pained screams, and instead just ran her tiny fingers through his hair. It took him time, but his pain eventually died down enough to incoherent speaking. He eventually became quiet, to nothing but shallow breathing and shivering.

"Are you okay now?" The concern in her voice lifted his spirits just enough for him to finally be able to speak, yet he still sounded like he was a thousand shattered shards of a glass mirror that was supposed to be who he was. "I'm... I'm fine." She gave him an acerning look, earning a small chuckle. "I'm fine, trust me. No, don't trust me. But I'm fine." Her hair sweeped around her body as she readjusted to glare at him with a childish pout.

"I know I can trust you. Nobody else can, though." He raised his eyebrows, his bangs effectively covering them. "Why can you trust me?" A small smile tugged at his lips. For once he could speak to someone that he didn't want to strangle. Someone who he treat as a peer even if they were so much younger and not know nearly enough. "I know what you've done. They've told me. But that changes nothing. You wouldn't hurt me. I''m not scared, either." A hint of sadness reflected in his eyes, and he was left with a frown.

"I wouldn't hurt you. I would never want to. Yet I failed at keeping you alive." His voice changed from the slightly playful tone to a dead monotone, and whatever life or emotion his eyes contained were erased. "But it wasn't your fault." The both of them were silent for a few moments, except for the sounds of their shallow breathing. "Maybe that's why I take sick pleasure in killing kids, I couldn't keep my own alive." He gave himself a moment of self-remorse before very amateurly attempting to braid her hair. "It's not your fault. You act like everything's your fault. Why do you do that?" She earned herself a snort in response, knowing neither of them knew the answer.

Unfiltered time passed in silence as the silvery-blonde locks were braided, and he took out his own hair tie to keep her sloppily-done braid together. "Why are _you_ here?" She sat there in quiet contemplation for a few moments before looking up at him, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "I was waiting here for you... I didn't know if you'd be here if you went anywhere... but I at least wanted to be here. I don't like your company... but I still... waited..." She bit her bottom lip enough to draw blood to prevent herself from crying, yet she still hiccuped even as wrapped his arms around her again and shushed her.

"Didn't I ever tell you not to wait for me?" His whisper barely muffled in her hair, and the remorse shared between the two seemed to pull him to shreds. Everything around them was beginning to fade out to a bright white, blood drops falling down from above them. All around were their nightmares coming back to life, enclosing in on them. She hid her face in his chest, not wanting to face the nightmares that been haunting her all those years, the things that haunted _him._

"I-I-I tr-tried to save y-your icecream... i-it melted, though..." His voice wavered as the animatronics and the ghosts of all the children edged ever closer. The icecream cone he was holding loosely with his fingers fell onto the bloody, watery ground. He choked on the humid air as her hair began to fade away, her fingertips, and her feet. Yet those innocent little eyes looked up at him like nothing was wrong. "Why did you get so skinny?" He regretted every second that she asked that question, and even as she glanced up at him questionably.

He mumbled as he looked up at the animatronics, something that would once make his personality flicker. Now, looking at them all he could feel was sick comfort, as the last thing that brought joy to him was slipping away forever. "I got sick..." His voice wasn't wavering anymore, and he felt like he was being repeatedly stabbed, pried apart and being put together again without emotion. "Promse me you'll get better; I want to go see the new animatronics someday. Are they as scary as these ones?" He would of grinned just a bit, yet all he could do is tremble in fear.

"I... I can't get better... and the new animatronics?... You're looking at one..." Pain tore into her heart as she noticed the scars littering his arms, his neck, even his face. When she stared into his eyes, all she could see was her own reflection, and the faint glow of his irises. What was reflected in those glassy violet orbs was her disappearing image. She suddenly felt the cold all around her, the strangely smooth, yet faint heartbeat that continued to struggle within his chest.

"I'm sorry you had to see me like this." He smiled sadly as the burning in his chest grew to uncomfortably painful, and the way she looked so lost stabbed into his mentality, if he had any left. "I'm not me anymore, I was rebuilt in a way. But I wish you never saw the result." He closed his eyes, blocking everything out. His daughter began to fade away even quicker, as he wasn't trying to hold onto her anymore.

"Daddy, why are you trying to get rid of me?" A little panic had filtered into her immature voice, as she watched the darkness swallow her hands, even in the bright white enviroment. "So neither of us have to suffer at what we've become; I'm a disgrace that you should have never met." He apologized for the last time before her image dispersed, and she was nothing just like everything else.

Whatever feelings he once had, whatever regret, humility or fear just disapated. That face-splitting grin just took over his face, and his pupils increased in size and whiteness formed in the middle of them. He slowly stood up, his body straightening in a curvy, unnaturally smooth motion. When he stared at everything emptily, he became his own nightmare, from the metalic pieces sticking out of his fingers, to the eerie smoothness his body took on, like a porcelain doll.

Everything around him disappeared, and his actual _eyes_ opened. He saw a dark shadow in a mirror, presumed to be himself. His eyes glowed bright enough to show clearly on the reflection, the glassy purple orbs staring back at him. He knew who he was, who knew who was reflected in that mirror.

William Afton.

 **A/N**

 **lmao I'm sorry I wrote this at like 3 am last night I had no coffee, everyone was asleep, and my cat was laying on my head** **vibrating** **purring while I was listening to bass-boosted dubstep. I could not think lol. ANYHOW I RESEARCHED. THEORIES. CANON. HEAD-CANONS. SO MUCH. FOUR FUCKING HOURS. I KNOW PROS AND NOOBS AT FNAF WILL FUCKING HATE ME. The pros/fangirls will be all like "That's not his name" "Why did you use 'him' 'his' and 'he' the entire fanfic" while the noobs will be all like "lmao I still know more then you I actually played the game hahaha u such a n00b"**

 **I don't mind. Really, I don't mind. If you think I'm a noob or a stupid little shit for writing this, it's OKAY. TRUST ME. IT'S OKAY! I DON'T MIND LIKE ECK**

 **... was it okay-**


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